Familiar Firmament

I rest now under strange stars,
made familiar only in the artifice of mind,
and am reminded of a firmament flung so far
from easy gaze and smile.
 
Mountain skies and foreign soil,
thankfully forgotten in dreams of archery,
a black bow stretched taut for a twisted arrow.
shallow bones made for  hardy marrow.
 
There is a sky on sun swept hills,
that I can truly feel.
 
Here the air is too thin.